Mace, Gas, and Blood: A Report Back from Berkeley

My girlfriend and I arrived at MLK Civic Center Park around noon. We locked up our bikes, and took a lap around the park to try and find our comrades. There were police searching bags at the small entryways that were created between the makeshift orange barricades that they had erected to protect the fascists. As soon as we circled the park we found our place in front of the Community Theatre on Allston. Instantly witnessing skirmishes I ripped off my civilian attire, masked-up, and got ready to rumble. M-80’s soared through the air terrifying the Trump supporters every time they landed. I even saw Trump supporters fighting with the police, and yelled “Hey! that’s our job!”

The mobile speaker started to blast Run the Jewels “Close your Eyes (and Count to Fuck)”, and the crowd started to get hyped, myself included. Soon thereafter I noticed the building at our backs collecting some anti-Nazi graffiti. Cameras were everywhere, with many black-clad demonstrators intimidating the press. The mobile speaker kept bumping, and we started to mobilize. Getting in the face of a biker with a “Straight Pride” shirt on, a comrade and myself started gyrating at him. We then cruised around the backside of the Peace Wall, where insults were thrown, along with bottles, and more heavy-duty firecrackers. As we continued around the backside of the park calls were made to stay together and keep the line tight. We soon took Center St. where some of the day's most intense melees were to take place. A dumpster was rolled out into the street and several brave activists pushed it into the combative Trump clan.

Projectiles flew overhead as trash cans were knocked-over, and scrounged for anything that could fly. One trash can was full of day-old bagels, and any anti-capitalist will tell you bagels only need one day to turn into stone. As our strength started to peak, “Fuck the Border” came over the speakers and I could not keep my boots on the ground much longer. G.L.O.S.S. came on after this and the hardcore ignited the fight in all of us.

One arrogant fascist approached our front line and threw a full water bottle at us. He was quickly accosted and separated from his military helmet which was launched into the crowd of his cowardly cohorts. A few younger white-supremacist kids with masks and shields started to face-off against our team. This is when I turned to the comrade nearest me, and plotted our next move. “Grab them by the face-mask, and rip those helmets off.” As soon as our plan had been discussed one of these maniacs started swinging his flag pole towards us.

I did exactly as I had planned, grabbing him by the face-mask of his helmet, ripping it off, and beating him with it. I instantly retreated into the safety of my courageous crew. One of the heaviest projectiles, a wood ‘No Parking’ sign with sharp metal backing still intact, was launched at the white-supremacists and successfully hit one square in the head.

This is when I saw one of the most terrifying acts come from the other side. Kyle Chapman AKA Based Stick-Man returned the No Parking sign, whipping it full speed over the tops of our heads. This single blow could have caused great danger to whomever was at its receiving end. We continued to avoid entrapment by moving up Center towards Milvia. Some of the fascists instigated more street brawls, and were met with flag poles that had been stolen from them. Pepper spray was continually shot in the faces of these racists, and needless to say some found its way into our eyes and lungs as well.

After a trash can was thrown into the street, and its contents lit on fire, our brave comrades pushed the smoldering plastic at the opposition. We exchanged chants, and yells, reminding them whose streets these are. “1,2,3,4 Slaves and genocide are war! 5,6,7,8 America was never great!” was my personal favorite chant of the day. At this point a huge smoke bomb was thrown into the midst of the crowd at Milvia and Center. Our posse, now somewhat diminished, began to retreat up towards Shattuck.

I turned around to see comrades grab a chain-link fence and drag it into the street to block off the Trump supporters who were at our heels. This makeshift barrier proved futile as they marched through it and after us. My girlfriend reports being cornered by a group of rowdy racists, one of which actually punched her in the face. She was able to maintain her composure, and reason with the unruly band. She even described speaking some sense into a lady who was on the Trump side, but didn’t support “all this white shit.” Apparently some of these people do respond to logic and reason.

Once we got to Shattuck we held it down despite decreasing numbers. Many comrades took this time to de-bloc, and return to their civilian garb. I saw several skirmishes at this point as well, including an Alt-Right moron getting beaten with a large stick. They continued to shout, egg us on, and prove our point for us. “You guys are the real fascists!” they said. To which I replied, “Believe it or not, but we have already debunked this claim.”

We put up a good fight today, but the fight is not over. It is only beginning. Every Nazi that gets punched is a victory. Every burned flag, hat, or sign is a success story. We need not be discouraged by days like today, but we must realize that these days are going to become more and more common, unless we put a nail in this coffin once and for all.

Your Comrade in Arms